


Company Culture

by alliedwolves



Series: Magnusquerade enthrallment explorations [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Body Horror, Exploring thralldom, Gen, Power Imbalance, canon typical horror content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliedwolves/pseuds/alliedwolves
Summary: The Thirteen have very different ways of holding power, and making it known. These will be short explorations of some of the covens less explored, starting with the Flesh
Series: Magnusquerade enthrallment explorations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102643
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18
Collections: The_Magnusquerade





	1. Content Aggregation

Toby had been waiting for his master’s return for what felt like _forever._ He could feel his throat burning, and the fingertip-shaped mark, like a birthmark, burnt into him like when he was first branded. He tried to distract himself with his errands, to put up decorations like his master wanted. Make the place nice.

The meat kept mouldering away. It wouldn’t stay nice, no matter what he tried. His trips to the shop were becoming both more frequent, and more furtive, darting out on legs that were too long, with newly recrafted balance that he could swear was better before he knew Angela. Not that he could deny her anything. To do so wasn’t unthinkable, he definitely could think about it, but the memory of her fingers burning into him, pulling something out from his shoulder and getting out a file to tidy it off, and return it, stirred up such gratitude in him that he didn’t _want to_ think about it. It was thanks to Angela and her unorthodox methods that he could sleep again, after years of pain.

How could he deny her the pound of flesh she asked for in return?

She’d made his legs longer, his tendons straining against the tension. She’d given him back his hair, and the sebaceous glands that kept it nice.

She had had a meeting. She thought it would be a fun one, one that ended in lots of lovely packages, and a new project for her to put back together. He was to hold the fort, make the place nice.

The neighbours complained about the smell, once, but they didn’t seem inclined to reappear. It had been so long since she’d seen him. He didn’t know how many other cattle she kept. Maybe she should kidnap the people downstairs, make sure there was sufficient blood for her when she returned. But if he was caught, there’d be questions, even if her connections to the mafia allayed suspicion.

No. Meat was meat. Meat was his task. Kidnapping went far beyond his part in the processing line. His job was to make the place nice for his master’s return.

He winced, and cut another piece of his shoulder out to add to the collection on the wall that was just _him,_ all the parts that grew back for him to shear like fleece, and once that was done, he’d add more fish and chicken and clams and beef, and

Meat was meat was meat. He was meat. Angela processed it. He would do his part, and wait, throat burning like the fingerprint she pushed into him, that was her mark on him, burnt into his soul. 


	2. Access Protocols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunt has probably the least need for thralls, but they have their uses.

They'd left him behind. 

He'd only worked in the health department six weeks, doing aid work for people on disability. Most of his clients needed more than he could give, but he did what he could. He kept the keys to their flats safely stowed when not on his rounds, too. 

Thursday's rounds had felt different. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, from Ms Gupta's place to Jenny's to Aiden's. He felt followed. Stalked. He put it down to overwork. 

Friday, outside Aisling's, they struck.

When the sharp arms had pulled him from the dark, and tore open his neck, he thought he was going to die there, in the council flat's courtyard. There was so much blood. 

The ruddy mouth that had torn into him licked his jaw clean, and the creature jammed its hands into his mouth. 

"Bite down and drink." It had ordered. He did, and knew his purpose. He was prey, but that on a hunting reserve, kept for the purpose. 

"You have the keys to this place. Permission to enter." It snarled, when it pulled his head away from the blood that gave him purpose. 

"I do, I—" 

"Invite your master in. I have a monster to kill." 

He did as he was bid. 

He hadn't seen them since. But despite the agony that wracked him, he hoped beyond hope that he would be once more granted the blessing of blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to do the corruption next, but this one grabbed me by the throat all at once :^D stay tuned!


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